


Longing

by GoodnightDearVoid97



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, fluff with a side of emotional trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodnightDearVoid97/pseuds/GoodnightDearVoid97
Summary: This was my first BSG fic, set between "The Ties That Bind" and "Escape Velocity." Love to lolcat202 for being my sounding board.Enjoy!





	Longing

Laura grunted when Bill's dog tags bounced off her nose, and buried her face further into their shared pillow when he husked an apology. That morning, she had cut off what remained of her hair, and while almost four years on the run for the survival of humanity kept her emotionally stringent, the first icy bite of her glasses balanced on top of her bare scalp had been enough to tip the scales. After helping her boss situate her wig in the Admiral's quarters, Tory promised to find Laura some scarves to wear in private.

When Bill kissed the back of her head, however, Laura's closed eyes overflowed, and she drew a shaky breath. Damn this man and his need to adore her failing body, to make her feel precious and beautiful after she sheared off a chunk of her femininity. And she couldn't reject him, even after their fight still stung like a slap, even knowing how much more it would hurt Bill to care about yet another ephemeral person. No, even when her body ached from the poison lengthening her life, being cherished by Bill felt…good.

"How was your day?"

Bill's voice sent ripples through Laura's consciousness, but she didn't open her eyes. Her day. She could not recall a single bearable second of her day. She dealt with the new cocktail of Lee Adama's political strategy—resentment, condescension, and a splash of the most recent, spicy ingredient, pity—fallout from Bill's indulgence of Kara's fantasy, Zarek's useless frakking gavel, a particularly nasty bout of treatment, and the fragility of her own mortality.

"My day was just peachy, Bill," Laura snapped and immediately regretted targeting him with her bitterness. She couldn't handle another fight like the one they'd had the previous week, and gods know Bill couldn't. Not over this. While she refused to invalidate her feelings about the  _Demetrius_ , Laura had made her position on that clear to Bill. Many times. No need to bring that animosity home with them. Opening her watery eyes, she rolled over and kissed Bill's furrowed brow. "Bad. Really bad. Thank you for caring."

Bill didn't hide his depression from her, but she couldn't tell if his torment stemmed from the residual effects of their fight or from her disease's more obvious manifestation. Or from Kara's madness. "I wish…there was something I could do," he said, clearing his throat when his voice broke. His admission did nothing for Laura's clarification.

"Tell me about  _your_  day," Laura teased, blinking away her tears both for his protection and her benefit. She was so tired of crying, and Bill was tired of being the cause. "Let's be sickening in our domesticity." Her whole body shook when she giggled, and Bill beamed for the first time in weeks as he leaned down to kiss her. Gods, she'd missed kissing him, as she missed many freedoms they enjoyed on New Caprica. Especially now, with IV scars and waning energy, Laura wondered what kept them from indulging before now. Months of health, spent flirting and placing bedtime phone calls, wasted on the farce of professionalism and decorum. As she pried his mouth open with her lips and tongue, Laura remembered their conversation that night on the alluvial deposits.

_I think we should all look at every moment of every day from now on as borrowed time. Let's stop spending the little time we have left here worrying about when it's gonna end._

Perhaps they could make up at least some of that lost time.

That thought had been enough to carry her through the moment, to enjoy the sensations of Bill's wandering hands and lips, until Bill instinctively reached for her hair. Laura jerked as if he'd scorched her, and Bill heaved a sigh that meant she was missing some kind of point.

"Laura—"

"Don't tell me how to feel about this, Bill," Laura bit back, her voice steadier than she expected. "You don't know what it—you just don't know what it's like." How could he know? Men shaved their heads as a fashion statement.

Bill only nodded gravely in surrender, proof that even if he couldn't empathize, he didn't want to fight. "What I know," he said, "is that I love you no matter what."

So much for relief.

Before Laura could form coherent thought, Bill leaned down to kiss her again. "Whenever you're ready. I just wanted you to know," he murmured against her lips.

At this point, Laura couldn't identify the source of the pressure in her chest or her racing pulse or clammy hands. Bill was who she thought of first every morning and last every night. It was Bill she was most afraid to leave. Yes, he was afraid to live alone, and that terrified her. Lee, Starbuck, Tigh, Dee—they were all as expendable to fate as she was. Laura had never experienced fear as a prerequisite to love. Or whatever she felt for Bill Adama.

"What are you thinking about?" Bill asked.

_What the frak do you think, Bill?_ "Billy," she lied. It wasn't a stretch. Billy almost always occupied her thoughts. Of all the sweet, innocent lives lost to this war, Billy's haunted her the most. "What love can do to people," she elaborated, to soften the abrupt transition wrapped in a white lie. She peered up at him and stroked his weathered cheek. "You're a little more experienced," she teased. "I used to tell Billy he knew nothing about women."  _Poor kid_.

Bill shrugged the shoulder he wasn't lying on. "He sure knew a lot about you," he said. "You taught him well. May have been the only budding politician I ever liked."

Remembering Billy's telling expressions, his nervous tics, and his endearing timidity, Laura bit her lip. "I taught him nothing he wouldn't have figured out himself. He would have proven that, if given the chance." The lack of tears pleasantly surprised her, so she snuggled closer to Bill and continued. "Sometimes I wonder why I think about him more than my family. My parents, my sisters."

Bill's warm hands snaked underneath her nightgown and rubbed her back. "You loved them in a completely different reality."

Laura grunted her assent. On the darkest days of this fleet's journey, Laura thanked the gods her father and her baby sisters didn't suffer through this. Her mother's suffering could not have been spared. "I suppose. I think about my mother most of all, but only when I think about the cancer." Laura felt him stiffen, but his caress never faltered. One step closer to acceptance. "When I allow myself to believe there's an afterlife, something waiting there for me, I think of Billy. Do you think that's wrong?"

"Of course not," Bill assured her, his voice never rising above his soothing murmur. She knew he was trying to lull her to sleep with it, as he had so many times. "I think of my boy too."

Laura immediately turned her face into Bill's chest and inhaled deeply, hoping to scare away her pain with a strong whiff of Bill's familiarity. She was so  _tired_  of crying, but Billy was dead, and Bill loved her, and soon she'd be dead too. The circle of life. Bullshit.  _Meaningless_ , Bill had christened her death,  _as meaningless as everyone else's_. "What you said the other night—"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"Yes, you did. You just regret saying it out loud." Laura leaned back just enough so that Bill could see her eyes. "I don't want to fight about it, I promise, and you have my forgiveness whether you want it or not. I just want  _you_  to know that I will not put the safety of this fleet above my own desire to lead us to Earth. If my death is meaningless, fine."

Bill squeezed her hand and shook his head. Hearing Laura utter his words probably hurt him more than they hurt her to hear them the first time. "It won't be meaningless to me."

Laura allowed herself a genuine smile, without the irony that had accompanied her smiles lately. "I know, Bill. Most people have someone to mourn them. Doesn't give death any more meaning. And I'm fine with that." She took a shuddering breath, and this time she knew that the chills that licked up her limbs linked directly to the sudden nausea and dizziness. "As long as this fleet is safe, I have fulfilled my duties as president." She gently pried Bill's hand from her forehead when he noticed the sweat on her brow. "Bill—"

"I'm going to get you some water," Bill insisted, climbing over her again.

Succumbing to the nausea and Bill's unpreparedness for the rest of this conversation, Laura rolled onto her back and breathed through each wave, until Bill squeezed her hand and offered her the glass of water. Without opening her eyes, she forced herself onto her elbows and reached for the glass with a trembling hand. Bill, of course, did not let go of it when she tilted it toward her lips, but she didn't deny his aid. If she couldn't tell him that she loved him, she would give him this, let him help her.

"Better?" Bill asked, setting the glass on his bedside table.

Laura chuckled bitterly. "No, but thank you," she said.

"Anything I can get you?" Bill asked. The grin that reached his eyes told Laura that he remembered her response the last time he asked her that question.

Just to shake things up, Laura patted the cooling space next to her. "I want you to come back to bed and show me how much you love me."

"Tease," Bill mumbled, knees popping as he rose.

Laura eased back down, afraid that any sudden movement would trigger a fit of dry heaving. Gods, how she longed for one of those "good days" Cottle used as incentive. She would have frakked that smirk right off Bill's face.

"Can you roll onto your stomach?" Bill asked.

Laura shook her head and winced when she felt the ache at the base of her skull. "Tried that. Made it worse." When she opened her eyes, she saw that Bill had smushed himself as close to the wall as possible, trying to give her space. "I'm not claustrophobic. Come 'ere." Despite everything Laura knew about herself, she fell asleep sooner when she and Bill shared the same pillow, so she nuzzled his cheek when she realized he was so close. As Bill threaded his fingers through her own, Laura rested their joined hands on her stomach.

"Sleep," Bill whispered. He kissed the silky skin behind her ear, and Laura hummed pleasantly.

Gods, she longed to love him back.


End file.
